Waiting for my transfer is messing with my security blanket. All change is scary, but changing prisons is way up there on the fear of change. Everyone I have talked to about Soledad, says it is much better than being here. They don’t even mention the tiny little cells. When I ask directly about just how small they are the tales are horrible. Still a man standing 6 1/2 feet tall said, it is easy to get used to the little cells. Hey, if he can fit into such a cell and feel comfortable, maybe it is not so bad. Still there is a evil butterfly raising hell in my stomach.

Excerpt from entry on December 5, 2011:

I often feel like my entries to the journal look alike. I guess that is one of the common things about prison life. There is little that can be considered new. It has all happened before…